Page 109 of Hanging and Burning

“I bet he’s no fool either. And if he is, well, my Grandma B always told me there’s no help for a fool.”

She ordered another cognac and drank it with the same verve and said, “It’s time to go.”

“Where to?”

“I was gonna go see my regular hookup in Inglewood, but instead I think I’ll go to bed.”

When we got back to the hotel, the solitary night valet was busy with another car. I opened the starlet’s door and proffered a hand. She stood up by holding on to my arm.

“I’m a little woozy,” she said. “Will you walk me to my room?”

It was a posh hotel swathed in the quietude of wealth. We traveled up to the top floor, where there were only two doors. She turned to the one on the left and placed the key card in my hand. I used the thing to open the door and held it for the young woman.

“You want to come in, Joe?”

“You know I do. But I can’t.”

“Because of your job?” she asked, doubting.

“No,” I said and then kissed her lightly on the lips. “Because the woman I love has come back to me after a long time.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“I don’t, but it believes in me.”

Clarice smiled and bowed a little shakily.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said before closing the door.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice called.

I was half the way between the reception desk and the hotel entrance.

The voice was unfamiliar, but I was the only one in that space, so I turned to see a tall and somewhat thin white man. He wore a brown suit, a tan shirt, and a western-like string tie that had a huge garnet as its knot.

“Yeah?” I said to the septuagenarian cowboy.

“Who are you?”